#even though i'm just doing my fucking job

[blitzwhore]

Stolas just standing there and letting blitz hug him in the end is all good, right? He is just sad because of octavia and accepting that blitz is there with him right?? It's not that he regrets chosing him, right??? (I just need affirmation)

You know what? I've found myself needing reassurance about this too. So let's take a moment to look at the facts together, shall we?

(This reply turned out way longer than I expected it to 😅 sorry!)

Fact #1 - Stolas is still coming to terms with the consequences of his actions. He spends the whole episode finding out just how much his life has changed. Learning how to navigate groceries, and laundry, and meals, and having a job, and worrying about money.

Mid-episode, he has a breakdown where he truly questions if everything he gave up was worth it just for a fantasy. At this point in the episode, he still hasn't realised how much he means to Blitz. As far as he's concerned, he did all of this for someone who doesn't reciprocate his feelings. But by the end of the episode, though, his feelings have settled enough to understand and express what he has known to be true all along: that saving Blitz was the right thing to do.

What Stolas regrets isn't saving Blitz's life, or even loving Blitz in the first place.

What he regrets are the choices he made that led them to this. He feels guilty for selfishly (or, rather, naively) playing out his fantasies. He's the one who established the deal, who let Blitz illegally use the book for many months, who wasn't always sensible about how he expressed his love for Blitz publicly and despite being married, and who allowed himself to ignore the reality of his situation so he could live in his own, personal romcom—all of which ultimately led to the events of Mastermind and the loss of Via.

And all the guilt and regret he's grappling with (however justified it might be) is exacerbated by fact #2, which is:

Fact #2 - Stolas is off his medication. He's been off it for a month now. Symptoms of depression (especially untreated depression) include mood swings, irritability, self-hatred and low self-esteem, passive/active suicidal ideation, pessimism and hopelessness about the future, catastrophising, black-and-white thinking, and anhedonia (inability to feel pleasure and to find joy in things—and people—who used to bring you it). All symptoms Stolas exhibits throughout this episode.

So, even if he shows a lack of emotion toward Blitz at times, or irritation to seemingly minor things like low doors or "secretating" or Karen's behaviour, even if he acts regretful and angry and desolate... a lot of these emotions and behaviours are a result of his depression, and not of actually hating the life he chose.

Fact #3 - Stolas loves Blitz. He always has, and always will. I could point at a thousand different moments in the show when Stolas' love for Blitz has transpired, but I'm going to leave it at his line from Mastermind: "I would rather be dead than live life without you by my side."

Even after everything they've gone through, even now that he's taken Blitz off his pedestal and can acknowledge that Blitz can be a fucking idiot... Stolas simply does not want to live a life without Blitz. It has always been Blitz. It will always be Blitz.

Stolas loves Blitz.

Fact #4 - Stolas kissed Blitz. Before he truly hits rock bottom as a result of Octavia cutting him out, Stolas is so ecstatic that Blitz cares, that Blitz was willing to go to such lengths to save his life, that he can't hold back the need to kiss Blitz mid-air. Suddenly, none of his earlier frustration matters. Nothing matters expect for how elated he is that Blitz loves him back. So he smiles and he pulls Blitz into a kiss because he can't bear not to kiss Blitz for a moment longer.

Look at this man. Look at how happy he is. Because it's always been Blitz, and maybe it was a fantasy for a long time, but it doesn't have to be anymore. Maybe this can be real now. He's so happy he (and I) could cry.

Fact #5 - Stolas didn't deny loving Blitz. When Via said "You don't love me, you love him," the script very purposefully did not have Stolas go "no, no, Via, that's not true—" or say anything else that might make Blitz doubt, even for a moment, that Stolas loves him. Because that much is true. He does love Blitz. He just also loves Via. Which brings me to:

Fact #6 - Blitz knows Stolas loves him. At no point throughout the episode does Blitz doubt, even for a second, that Stolas loves him. And we know this because Blitz's walls remain down at all times. If Blitz doubted he was loved, if he had even the slightest of reservations, those walls would come crawling back up whether he wanted them to or not. It's what he's been trained and conditioned to do—it's how he's kept his heart safe ever since the accident.

But now, he knows his heart is safe with Stolas. He believes it enough to not depend on his walls to feel at ease. He believes it enough to let himself take care of Stolas and be soft with Stolas without the slightest trace of hesitation.

Look at Blitz's face. This is the face of a man who knows that even if Stolas isn't okay right now, things will get better. And when they do, they'll both still be in love with each other. This is the face of a man who can't wait for something beautiful to flourish between them, but who is in no rush to get there. He knows the road ahead is hard and painful, but he has faith in Stolas. In both of them.

Fact #6 - Stolas was happy to share a private, romantic dance with Blitz. Despite everything going through his mind, he found comfort and happiness in dancing with Blitz; in getting to have this little moment with him.

He found relief in the fact that Blitz stayed with him this time, even after Stolas told him, once again, that he didn't have to stay.

His reaction to Blitz initiating a dance between them is genuine surprise, immediately followed by an enamoured little smile at the mere notion that he gets to have this, now.

And, as they dance, he keeps smiling and leaning into Blitz, going as far as to manage a deep, heartfelt laugh at Blitz's words. This, for an unmedicated, depressed person going through one of the worst days of his life, is huge in itself. It shows that, even in the worst of times, he finds undeniable comfort and happiness in Blitz.

And, after their dance, Stolas looks at Blitz with a sobriety and soft sort of realisation that shows he's finally coming to terms with the fact that this is real. After everything he's lost, after all the fantasies he hoped for for so long and believed he'd never have, he finally gets to have this.

Despite the pain he's going through, Stolas looks at Blitz and sees the man he loves.

Notice how Blitz's eyes trail down to Stolas' mouth. And Stolas realises. And doesn't move away. Waiting, expectantly, for Blitz's next move, fully expecting it to be a kiss.

But then Blitz hugs him instead, and Stolas doesn't hug back.

And it's not because he doesn't want to be hugged by Blitz. It's not because his feelings for Blitz have changed, or dimmed, or disappeared. It's not because he regrets loving Blitz, or saving him. It's not because he doesn't want to have a close, healthy, loving romantic relationship with Blitz.

It's because of facts #1 (he's grappling with so much guilt and coming to terms with the consequences of his actions) and #2 (he's experiencing symptoms of unmedicated depression). And, above all, it's because of fact #7, which is...

Fact #7 - Stolas doesn't know how to be loved. Stolas has never had support. He has never had a shoulder to cry on, or someone to hold him when he needed it. When he's feeling vulnerable and broken, he defaults to hugging himself as a way to self-soothe, because that's the only comfort he's ever known.

And because he's never known comfort from others—because it was never allowed or safe for him to need or ask for comfort from others—all Stolas knows to do with his vulnerability is hide it. So much so that, the two times we see him begin to break down in front of Blitz, he either portals Blitz away or masks his tears and pain immediately. Even as he drunkenly rambles about wanting to be held, he still makes sure not to appear like he actually needs a hug.

So when he finds himself being held by Blitz in a warm, comforting hug, Stolas doesn't know how to respond. Because he's never had this. He's never had an opportunity to learn how to exist in someone's comforting embrace, how to interact with this kind of physical contact. He still has to learn how to feel safe between arms that aren't his own.

Simply put, Stolas still doesn't know how to hold Blitz back.

That doesn't mean Stolas doesn't want or need physical comfort. He needs it desperately—everyone does. But wanting something and knowing how to actually have it are two very different things, and Blitz knows that better than anyone, because he's wanted Stolas for a very long time, but didn't, until very recently, know how to feel safe accepting Stolas' love.

And that's why Blitz is completely understanding of the fact that all Stolas can do, all Stolas has the ability to do, is stand there and let himself be held, and let his emotions go through him. In, and out, with every breath, with every second. And get slowly acquainted with what being comforted by the person he loves feels like.

Thirty-something years of trauma can't be undone in a single hug, or a single conversation, and it's going to take time for Stolas to learn how to be present while in Blitz's arms, and how to return that emotional closeness.

But Blitz has faith in him. Blitz is willing to be patient and soft with him while he gets better. Blitz is ready to meet Stolas where he's at, because he knows, beyond a trace of doubt, that they love one another, and they're going to be okay. Even if Stolas doesn't know it yet—even if we, the audience don't know it yet—Blitz knows.

And that's just going to have to be enough for now.

And because this post got completely away from me, I shall conclude by quoting their song, because it summarises their story better than I ever could:

Truer love is hard to find. ❤️

[thefallennightmare]

The Ties That Bind Us: One

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit.*

•Parings• Noah Sebastian x Soulmate!Reader.

•Word Count• 2,268

•Warnings• fluff, language, talks of death/sickness, angst, depression, dark thoughts, soft!Noah, smut that will include unprotected p in v, oral with both male and female receiving, hand jobs, and fingering. Pretty tame smut in this.

•Summary• Growing up, Noah’s grandparents told him the story of why everyone wore a red tie around their wrists and while theirs glowed while his didn’t.

“Yours will glow when you meet your soulmate, Noah.”

When someone moves in next door and catches Noah’s eyes immediately, he sees the red tie around her wrist glowing only to see his remains red. Convinced she’s not his soulmate, Noah tries hard to stay away from her yet small moments between them start to blossom. So much so, he can’t ignore the tie that binds them together

•Authors Note• As I previously stated, even though this is a "reader insert", there will be moments I describe the reader because it pertains to the story. I'm not quite sure how many chapters this will be, I'm thinking around ten but it could change. I'm also sorry this chapter seems very short, but I figured it doesn't need to be super long with an introductory chapter.

•Tags• @artificialbreezy @blueskylinesx @dominuslunae @lobolocaamo @lilcrazy011 @badomensls @shayeanna-ashlie @supersquirrel1996 @missduffsblog @nicelittlenightmares @curse-bearing-hips @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @chey-h @idontwantthemoney @heyyoplayer @amelia-acero @xmads-omensx @poisongirl616 @theanarchymuse95 @trvshdxddy @thisbicc @losingmyselfinthoughts @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @klutzy-kay24 @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @collidewiththesavannah @tosoundlessdarkistare @rumoured-whispers @dontwantthemoney

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NOAH

Growing up, my grandma would always tell me the same thing whenever I asked her about the weird red tie around my wrist. 

“An invisible red thread connects those destined to be together, regardless of time, place or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but will never break.”

When I asked her why hers and my grandpa’s glowed the same color, her answer was simple. 

“We’re both soulmates. Destined to be with each other.”

I always thought the idea of soulmates was a bunch of bullshit people told to make up reasons why we all were born with these ties. I spent many hours trying to cut or rip it off but it wouldn’t budge. My grandma’s words echoing in my head once again. 

“The only way to remove a bind is with death.”  

The soft breeze filtered through my hair as I adjusted the beanie over my head, opening the door wider so my guest could leave. Yet while I stood on the front porch waiting for her to stop talking with Michael, I messed with the red bind around my wrist like I typically did. I’d been expecting to see it glow for the last few years once I reached the age of twenty one yet here I was at twenty four with the still same red bind around my wrist. 

“So, can I call you?” 

Snapping my eyes away from my wrist to the woman in front of me, her bind also red, I gave her a curt nod. “Sure, I guess.” 

I didn’t miss the way her smile faltered with my words and when she crossed her arms over her chest, I suddenly regretted not trying to be a bit more upbeat. It’s not like she was some stranger, she’d come over a few times before but it was never serious. I didn’t even remember her name most of the time which might have been wrong on my end but like I said, it wasn’t ever serious. Just someone to call when the nights were lonely. 

Wow, I sounded like a real asshole. 

“Maybe we can get coffee tomorrow?” I suggested while stuffing my hands deep into the pocket of my sweats. 

Whatever her name was smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “I would really love that, Noah.” 

Fuck. She said my name which means now I have to say her name. It's the respectful thing to do. 

I rubbed the back of my neck, long strands of hair tangled between my fingers. “Uh, yeah. Same here, uh-.” 

When I trailed off, unable to remember her fucking name, her lip snarled and threw her shoulder over her shoulder, bounding down the front steps. 

“You know what, don’t call me. I’m busy for the foreseeable future!” She called back, making sure to slam the door to her car as she sat inside. 

Shrugging, I didn’t bother to watch her peel out of the driveway and turned on my heels to head back inside when a commotion to my left made me pause. The house next door had been vacant for a few months now so when I saw a large moving truck parked in the driveway. With furrowed brows, I took a few steps closer to the edge of the front porch, the side closest to this house, and watched as someone walked up the ramp into the back of the truck. 

“New neighbors.” Jesse appeared next to me almost out of thin air, taking a rather large bite of his apple. 

“Since when?” I asked, giving him my attention now. 

He tapped my shoulder with the hand that didn’t hold the apple. “Since this morning. Someone was a bit preoccupied to notice.” 

Rolling my eyes, I flipped him the bird and gazed back towards the moving van, expecting to see a group of guys like ourselves emerge from the back of the truck. So when I saw a female figure walk out carrying a large box, my breath caught in my throat. The way her hair cascaded over her shoulders and how a soft melody seemed to echo in the wind over towards me; her singing some unknown tune. 

My eyes tracked every movement of her when she walked through the front door of the house. She was gone for less than a few minutes but the entire time, my heart beat wildly in my chest. It was something Jesse noticed but didn’t bother to tease because with a wave, he disappeared back into the house leaving me alone again on the porch.

The sunset had broken over the horizon, painting the grass in a glow of oranges and slight pinks. It all paled in comparison to the brightness that radiated from the woman next door as she stepped back out, pausing for a moment to roll up the sleeves of her sweater. 

“Shit,” I muttered when I saw the band on her left wrist vivid with a glow. 

Holding my breath, I yanked up the sleeve of my shirt hoping to see my own band glowing but felt my stomach drop when it was still that stupid red color. It was foolish to think that this gorgeous woman who moved in next door would randomly be my soulmate. Things didn’t work out that easy for me. I’d been dealt a shit hand in life so I should have figured that this wouldn't be any different. 

My soulmate isn't out there. I should learn to accept it. 

“Excuse me?” 

I whipped my head up from my wrist over towards the house next door, giving a very awkward wave to her. 

“H-hi,” my voice shook, showing my nerves. 

She gave me a warm smile nonetheless. “I’m sorry if this is weird but do you know when garbage day is? I’ve got stacks on stacks of boxes that are taking over my garage.” 

Her giggle danced in the air over towards me, wrapping itself around my heart, and I had to tell myself not to get attached by her damn laugh. If her bind was glowing while mine wasn't, that only meant one thing. 

“Uh, Thursdays,” I said after clearing my throat. “Recycling is every other week.” 

“Thank you,” she beamed with a tired smile. “We just moved in and the relator failed to mention that.” 

Stuffing my shaking hands in the pockets of my sweats, I did my best to not let her realize how the way she was looking at me affected me. 

“Well, if you need help or more tips on the neighborhood, I’m your guy,” I said with a lopsided smile. 

Even from the distance between us, I could still see her brow peak while she crossed her arms. “That’s very nice of you, thank you. But I don’t even know your name.” 

“It’s Noah.” 

Very briefly, the bind around her wrist flickered which didn’t seem to phase her because she gave me a curt nod. “Well, Noah, it's nice to meet you. I’m Y/N, your new neighbor.” 

I leaned against the fence that surrounded my porch. “Welcome to the neighborhood, Y/N.” 

Both of us stood frozen for a few beats, staring at one another, and as I felt an urge to ask her something, someone exiting the house made my body go rigid. 

“Love?” He called out towards Y/N, resting a hand on the frame of the door. “Do you need any help?” 

All it took was once glance at the man's wrist to see the matching glow with Y/N’s, indicating what I already knew. 

She had found her soulmate. 

You met her less than two minutes ago, idiot. Stop being so heartbroken. 

“What are you doing, Eric?” She nearly rushed over to him. “I told you I would bring in the rest of the boxes. You should be taking it easy.” 

Feeling suddenly out of place, I pushed myself off of the porch and dragged my feet back inside, doing my best to ignore the way I had once again got my hopes up for this soulmate bullshit. 

READER

“Are you alright?” I asked Eric, slowly helping him back into the house and over to the couch. 

Even though we moved in this morning, we had a moving company bring all of our heavy furniture a few days ago and set it up. Anything to help take the load off of Eric and I since it was me that did most of the packing and unpacking. 

He playfully pushed me away and sat on the couch himself. “I’m fine, Y/N. I just wanted to make sure you were still doing fine unloading the truck. It needs to be back by 8 tonight.” 

I nodded while throwing the blanket over his lap and quickly adjusting the black beanie on his head that came askew. “I have three more boxes to bring in. Will you be fine alone while I take the truck back? I can call someone to come stay with you.”

This caused Eric to raise a brow. “Who? We don’t know anyone here.” 

Right. Nearly forgot that. 

“But I’ll be fine. I already told you I can take care of myself for a bit. It’s mostly when you’re gone for the entire day that it gets rough.” 

Guilt filled my veins for a number of reasons so instead of unpacking the rest of the truck, I sat on the couch next to him, wrapping my arms around his midsection to feel his familiar warmth spread to me. I traced the various tattoos on his arms with my gaze, burning them into my memory so I could never forget the way they looked. 

The way he looked. 

“Your mustache is getting long,” I giggled while glancing up at him. 

With everything going on in our lives the last few weeks, Eric had basically forgot the upkeep to his mustache. Not that I ever complained though, I loved how that was the only facial hair he kept. 

“I know how much you love it,” he winked and pressed a weak kiss to my forehead. 

We laid there for a moment on the couch, enjoying each other's presence in our new yet quiet home. Things would be different here, they had to be. We gave up a lot to move to this city because of the opportunities that awaited us. 

“I met more of the neighbors,” I spoke after some silence. 

“Yeah?” Eric asked, running his tattooed fingers up and down my arm. 

“Noah. He told me trash days are on Thursdays. Recycling every other week.” 

He hummed. “Is that the one who always seems to be eating some sort of fruit?” 

I giggled while playfully smacking his chest. “No, that’s Jesse. He’s the one that recommended this great taco truck a few blocks down. I was thinking maybe I grab some on the way back from dropping off the truck. Our car is at the UHAUL place so I’d drive it home.” 

“Home,” Eric repeated the word. “I never thought we’d call California home. I thought we’d be stuck in Ohio forever.” 

Tucking my legs underneath me on the couch, I buried my face deeper into Eric’s sweater desperate to have his scent tattooed into my skin. 

“We had to move though, Eric. The cancer units here are far better than Ohio,” I reminded him, doing my best to not cry. 

I’d spent the last couple of months crying because of not only Eric’s cancer coming back but the news of this time, the chemo might not stop it from spreading. We refused to give up hope so one of Eric’s doctors recommended a program out here in California that was testing some new age chemo, one that possibly could help Eric's type of cancer. 

“Which reminds me,” Eric sighed. “My chemotherapy appointment has been moved up to 8 a.m tomorrow. Is that alright?” 

Blinking away the tears, I nodded with a long sigh. “With my new job, I can work from home and clock in wheenver just as long as I work a full eight hours.” 

His tender touch lifted my chin, forcing me to look into his brown eyes; ones that had lost their light over time. 

“I hope that you remember days like this, both of us sitting here together when you're living somewhere new. These things were never clearer in my head especially when peace was in our home and needs were met. Before my cancer.” 

“Eric,” I choked out. “Please don’t talk like you’re already gone. You’re still here, in my arms. We need to focus on that.” 

Reluctantly, he nodded, knowing that he wouldn’t win this fight. It was one we had often, him trying to tell me not to dwell on his death for long if it came. He wanted me to be happy. But the glowing binds on our wrists for each other gave me hope that Eric would overcome this, like he had before. 

Forgetting about the boxes that needed to be unpacked, I let my eyes flutter shut with the sounds of Eric’s soft snores pulling me down to a slumber that my body had been craving. I couldn’t help but wonder of all the new opportunities we’d find here and possibly new friends as I thought of my neighbors, ones that seemed to be somewhat friendly. Especially the one with the longer hair out of the bunch. 

Noah. 

Exhaustion had taken both Eric and I, us falling asleep in each other's arms on the couch. Neither of us noticed our red binds flickering like a home losing its power in a raging thunderstorm.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Baby, I'm Cold

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Summary: Your boss is a stubborn man but even he can get sick. (plus!reader)

Character: August Walker

Day Twenty-One of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - I swear I'm not sick

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Mr. Walker leaves his bag at the door, his jacket too. You move his shoes so they sit neatly on the drip tray and hang his jacket. You pick up his briefcase and carry it up to his office. As you near the closed door, you hear him coughing from the other side. 

You slow as you approach and knock on the door, “sir, I have your things.” 

He coughs again then calls through hoarsely, “in.” 

You twist the handle and dip inside. You set the bag on the leather armchair where you always do and retreat as your employer sniffles. He lets out a crackly sigh after. He sits behind his desk, silent, stony. His usual self except for the raspy breaths he lets out. 

You don’t await his dismissal. You know if he has to tell you to go, it means you’ve overstayed. Mr. Walker prefers discretion. He prefers solace. It makes your job both easy but difficult. 

You leave and go down to the kitchen. At this time, he won’t have eaten. He’ll need dinner. With his cough and stuffed nose in mind, you prepare him some chicken and rice soup. You put a thick hunk of artisinal bread with it and a cup of tea. 

You carry it up to him and announce your purpose at the door, “dinner, sir.” 

He grumbles. You know his sounds well enough to enter. You bring the tray to his desk as he sits back in his chair, unmoving, eyes closed, hands firm around the rests. You hear the rattle in his chest from there. 

“Anything else, sir?” 

He opens one eye and the icy blue chills you. His single iris flicks down as he considers the tray. He opens his other eye and sits forward. He swallows another cough. 

“What is this?” He touches the mug’s handle. 

“Tea, sir. I found some ginger. I added a touch of honey--” 

“Why?” 

“Why, sir?” 

“I don’t drink tea. I haven’t ever drunk tea. It’s for my mother. So why--” He snaps his mouth shut and his throat strains as he holds back another cough. He lets out a single croak and clears away the rocky crags. “Why are you serving it to me?” 

“Oh, uh, sir, it will soothe your cough--” 

“I’m not sick.” 

“Yes, sir, the air is dry this time of year,” you agree. 

“I don’t want the fucking tea.” 

“Sir.” 

You come around and take the cup. He sits back again and turns the seat away. You hold the steaming cup and quickly head for the door. You stop, remind by his reprimand of something else. 

“Your mother and father will arrive tomorrow morning. I’ve arranged their room and all else.” You confirm. 

“Great, you did your job,” he sneers dryly. 

“Sir,” you murmur and turn to the door. 

Just a few more hours and you’ll be free. It’s the holidays and even Mr. Walker gave you a day to spend with your family. Though you suspect it’s more that he doesn’t want you around his.  

For the three years you’ve worked for him, you’ve never met a single other person in his life. You clean the house, you pick up his laundry, and you order groceries. You are peripheral. You are the tedium that fuels the more concerning parts of his life. 

🌟

Your mother and stepfather are arguing on the porch. Again. Your aunt and uncle are showing off their toddler grandchild, and your brother, the terrible twins, more than a decade your junior, are flipping through their phones. You sit and observe it all. 

You glance at the window, your mom’s anger expounded in the wag of her finger. You get up as the smell of ham draws you into the kitchen. You check to make sure it’s not overdone then piddle around, trying to distract yourself from the chaos. 

Your back pocket rumbles. You ignore it. It’s some promo trying to entice you into ordering food. On Christmas of all day. As the vibration persists, you assume it’s some poor telemarketer, forced to make the rounds for a bit of overtime pay. 

You ignore it. You work on finishing the brussel sprouts your mother left in the strainer. You cut of the ends and slice an X into them. Your phone starts again. You don’t put down the knife until the third call. 

Walker. 

You hesitate but pick up. Why would he be calling, today of all days. You fix your posture as you answer, as if he can see you. 

“Mr. Walker,” you eke out, nervous you might have missed something. 

“Hello, is this...” a woman says your name curiously. 

“Uh, yes, it’s me,” you affirm. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry to bother you, especially today, but we are in need of some help,” her voice is tremulous. 

“I told you,” a male can be heard more distantly. “We shouldn’t bother them. There’s a reason they aren’t here, dear.” 

“Pish,” the woman dismisses. “Very sorry again but my son--” 

“Katherine,” you say, “Mr. Walker’s mother?” 

“Yes, Auggy is my son,” she tuts. “As I was trying to explain, he’s doing rather poorly but he’s refusing my care. He’s always been awfully stubborn, you know?” 

“Kath,” the man drones. 

“Oh, I know, I know,” she squeals at him. “He doesn’t want his mommy fluttering around him like an old hen, but you understand, he’s my baby. I’m worried. And so we were looking and saw your name. A girl’s name so you must be someone special.” 

“Katherine,” the man sighs once more. 

“I’m his housekeeper, ma’am,” you explain. 

“Hum, oh, of course. You would be,” she says. “Oh, my, I’m afraid I’ve assumed so much.” 

“Is he still coughing then?” You ask. 

“Oh, yes, terrible. He sounds as if he’s swallowed glass.” 

“We’ll call a doctor,” the man intones. 

“Octavius, please, which doctor do you suggest we call? They all fly out of the country on their salaries,” she chirps. “Honey, please, if you don’t mind, you might be able to coax him. If you are his maid, you’d only be doing your job. He can’t turn you away.” 

You frown. She doesn’t know how wrong she is. He would and he will. 

“Lucine, please,” your step father’s voice blows through with a gust as he comes inside. His anger is forged into his tone and the door slams. You wince. 

“I can be there,” you tell Katherine. It won’t make a difference but it will get you away from all this. 

🌟

Katherine as good as drags you through the door. You didn’t even knock before she swung it open. She’s a tall woman, plump, and her face is rosy. She’s not what you expect. 

“Yes, come in, come in,” she says. “Oh, what’ve you brought?” 

She gestures to the canvas bag on your elbow. 

“Just some stuff to help,” you explain as the warmth of inside seeps beneath the chill in your cheeks. “Hopefully.” 

“Oh, yes, how clever of you.” 

She takes the bag and you let her. She sets in on the bench and unbuttons your top button before you can stop her. You gently catch her hands then do the rest yourself. 

“Sorry, dear, sorry. It’s only, I’m so worried.” 

“He’s a man, he’ll be fine. If you’d stop pecking at him, he wouldn’t be hiding,” a man appears in the archway to the den. He’s big like Mr. Walker, with white hair and paler eyes. He crosses his arms in the same way. That must be the father. 

“He’s sick! You heard him. He wouldn’t listen--” 

“He was doing just fine, Katherine.” 

“Tosh, you don’t know that. You never were there when he was home sick. He needs his orange juice and chicken noodle.” 

“He needs you to stop,” the man you assume is Octavius reproaches. 

“I can check on him but... it’s probably just a cold,” you say as you slip out of your boots. 

“So long as you try.” 

“Right,” you grab the bag and twist the handles. 

You go to the bottom of the stairs and look up. You peer side to side, from mother, to father, both tentatively watching you in turn. It seems Walker puts everyone at arm’s length. 

You take the first step with trepidation. Then the second. Up and up, you climb until you reach the top. You turn down the hallway and come to the office door. You bite the inside of your lip and knock. You don’t get an answer. 

You look at the bag in your hand and contemplate running back downstairs. You can say you tried and got the same result. Still, that Walker doesn’t shout for you to scram is worrying. 

You knock again to the same result. Several more taps go unanswered before you are faced with another decision. Do you go in, just to make sure? 

It would be a waste. You left your family, Katherine waited around for you, you suppose you can brave Walker’s wrath to give her the gift of knowing all is well. 

You inhale and hold it in. You enter the office, peeking through as you do. It’s dim but for the light of the glass lamp on the desk. As you look for the broad figure behind it, you find only an empty chair. 

You frown. He must be in his room or-- 

The grumble jars you. You squint as you try to see through the dark. You find Mr. Walker on the leather settee near the artificial fireplace set into the wall. Great. You should go. You can do that still. He’s not answering you so obviously he doesn’t want to be disturbed. 

He coughs, a sharp, agonizing cough that makes even your throat hurt. You let your breath out. Ugh. He’s a big boy, literally, he can handle it. Right? 

Shit. 

You cross the room and turn the dial on the artificial fireplace. It lights up, casting a soft glow over the office. You turn to find Walker shivering on the cushions, arms crossed as he hugs himself, legs bent to accommodate the short furniture. 

“Mr. Walker, I brought some cough drops and some cold medicine,” you say.  

He groans and doesn’t move. He hacks again, the couch frame creaking under his weight. Why? You shouldn’t feel bad for him. Not for as unpleasant as he’s consistently been. 

You move a leather stool closer and sit. You cradle the bag on your knees and sift through the contents. You take out the bottle of Buckleys. You shake it and reach with your other hand to touch his shining forehead. His eyes pop open and his mustache twitches. 

“Mr. Walker, I have cough syrup--” 

“I’m fine,” he insists, only to cough again. “I don’t want that—sh-- *cough*-- shi-- *cough*” He devolves into a fit and you wait patiently. 

“If you don’t want it, you should try some of these ginger drops.” 

“Why are you here?” 

You steady your agitation. “Your mother called me.” 

“Why did she--” He can’t finish the question. 

“She asked me to help you. I’m trying but I can’t do much if you won’t let me. However, you are my boss so you can tell me to go back home to my family,” you shrug. 

He looks at you then closes his eyes. He shifts onto his back and lifts his legs, extending them over the armrest. He is ridiculous big on the short sofa. 

“Do whatever. I thought you were a maid, not--” 

He can’t finish the insult but you get the gist. You dig around in the bag and take out the tin of menthol rub. You uncap it as his face contorts in an effort to repress his coughing. You hold it out under his nose and he sucks in and flinches. 

He grabs his nose as you recoil and blinks, “what is that?” 

“Just menthol, it will clear your airways a bit.” 

“Oh,” he furrows his dark brows. 

“Typically, you put it on your chest but it’s kind of greasy so--” 

“Do that,” he insists and sniffs deeply, “it’s helping.” 

“Oh, uh...” you stare at him. 

He’s sallow, the brims of his eyes reddened, and his face drawn. You nod and lightly touch the gel. You hesitate. You won’t be able to reach him and... right. 

“Can you...” You look at his shirt collar, “unbutton.” 

He coughs again, a rumble in his chest, and he clumsily pinches his buttons until he frees them. He pulls the fabric apart to reveal his furry chest and you stand. You move closer and bend over him as you gently trace beneath his throat, that little crook of bone above his muscled pecs. You focus on spreading the menthol as he breathes deeper, further puffing out his chest. 

“Better?” You ask. 

He makes a noise, something akin to a purr. You rub the cream in until It’s absorbed then pull away. You cap the container and put it back in the bag. You put it all on the stool and back away. 

“Where are you going?” Walker mutters. 

“To wash my hands,” you say. 

“Mmm, be quick.” 

You take his orders and hurry out. You come down the hallway and dip into the bathroom to rinse your hands. As you dry off, you nearly squeal as a shadow appears in the door. Katherine wrings her hands as she shifts back and forth. 

“Is he okay?” She asks. 

“He’s fine, I think. Just sick. Stubborn.” 

“Oh, very,” she agrees with your last statement. 

“I’m just trying to get him to take some cough meds,” you explain. 

“Ah, good luck,” she trills, “I will make some tea, if you like?” 

“Uh, yeah, we can try that,” you agree. 

She hurries off and you go back down the hall. The smell of menthol and the crackle of the fake fire welcome you in. You go to the settee as Walker lays quietly, breathing in and out, as his shirt remains open. 

“I think the cough syrup will help,” you say. 

He doesn’t respond. You watch the cadence of his chest. Is he asleep. You move around slowly, trying not to knock anything with your hip or step too heavy. You gather up the bag. He can probably sleep it off. 

You let out a squeal as you feel a brush against your bum. You spin as Walker’s arm extends to you and he catches your hip. You stutter in surprise. 

“S-sir!” 

“I’m sick,” he whines, though the surrender is hardly a triumph. “Please...” 

You stare at him. You don’t know what’s worse. The brave face or the pathetic victim. 

“Baby, I feel so bad,” he squeezes and you look down at his large hand. He must be really sick if he’s calling you that. 

“It’s alright, Mr. Walker,” you take his hand and move it off your hip. You lower yourself onto the edge of the couch and bend his arm over his chest. “Your mom’s going to make you some tea.” 

“Mmmm,” he drones and reaches for you again. “Don’t leave.” 

“Sir,” you look down as his touch follows your sleeve to your shoulder then curls down your back, stopping on your waist. You grab his wrist again. “I’ll stay, just... relax.” 

“Yes, baby,” his fingers dip into your soft side, “whatever you want me to do.” He tugs free of your grip and trails along the top of your butt, “just stay.” 

You narrow your eyes and once more stop his stray hand. You cling to it as you direct it away from you, keeping hold of him to keep from another rogue groping. He’s sick for sure. So sick, he must be delusional. 

“Alright, I'm here, Mr. Walker.” 

He opens his eyes and looks at you. You wince at the intensity in his glassy irises. His cheek ticks and he hums again. 

“Mm...” he drawls weakly. “So... soft.” 

[jazeswhbhaven]

A Christmas beneath Heaven P2 | React Final | Days 8 & 9

Alright ya'll it's the end!!!! This event went over the span of two weeks and phew was it a long one huh? But there's not much to the summary I would think...seeing as how MC is about the get the 'cure' hehe.

Let's dive in~

Summary

Back in Paradise Lost, our nobles are dressed in ridiculous looking Christmas garb, and Gamigin is fidgeting and being himself, nervous that he won't be able to do anything with Lucifer for the holidays like he planned (even though he forgot to even ask in the first place if he could do those things with him lol)

As Jjok and the others try to get their noisy comrade to calm down, Lucifer appears with MC in his arms. Everyone is rightfully concerned, and Lucifer reveals that the kings will not find medicine for the Christmas flu, but he knows the cure for it.

The cure he deducted, is that the source of desire must be released and satisfied, MC must be honest with their feelings and give into them instead of repressing them, then would the flue symptoms subside and they'd be back to normal again.

He asks for all the nobles to come inside his office with him, even though they won't be needed, he doesn't want to leave them out and wishes to spend time with them all the same. (I personally like how Lucifer genuinely just likes having them around even if he's boinking MC. He may have not participated in the orgies but it makes me wonder if he just naturally doesn't care if others are watching him perform such an act if it's people he trusts)

So MC wakes up finally, and is embarassed to see that the Paradise bois and Lucifer are surrounding them. But Luci gets straight to the point, saying that if they want to live, they have to be honest with their desires and wants.

Then...MC thinking that if they are honest, Luci will let them go free confesses that they want to suck and lick Lucifer. He then says that they must do it specifically....between his legs. Yup guess that c a w k gettin' swallowed.

And yes...there's a lot going on within the next few moments. Lucifer mentions that MC's true desire was to be dominated, and he had the desire to fulfill that. Calls MC a dog, makes them pretty much stay on their knees the entire time too.

All the meanwhile, the nobles are still there, Lucifer nearly forgetting they were because he was so in the moment. But he orders them to turn around and to resist the urge to masturbate (it seems to be easy but also hard at the same time since they were all making loud noises and creaming themselves)

I mean hell, Morax came just from hearing Lucifer and MC goin' at it and I think that's personally really hot of him. I'm also really wondering if Marbas' big fucking meat is bursting out from his pants like??? And Gamgam...he's a dragon and usually everyone hc's double peens for dragons...but something tells me...he may only have one (he may be one of my comfort characters but I still think about these things 😭) Buer a freak I just know he can't wait to jack it.

So, now that all of that is out of way and MC is finally warming up to Luci and getting their throat ready, they do the "black screen" treatment and then suddenly Lucifer is coming one last time after a few hours and MC is covered in jizz, sweat and whelp...the flu is gone!

now the nobles can jack off to their hearts content even though their pants are soaked from just pre-cum and juices from just hearing their king get raunchy

Once MC wakes up again from being exhausted, they talk about how embarrassed they are that they sucked off Lucifer even though they wanted to do it.

They even mention usually they'd run to Minhyeok for comfort but seeing as how they treated him as a lewd fantasy to get off to they felt bad for that. (Honestly I'm like GOOD LORD JUST lol idk MC needs to get over that, like you've already fucked demons, jacked off the the thought of your childhood friend getting a blow job from you, and now you're whining about how embarrassing it is to do all this? Are you really Solomon's descendant? 💀)

Then we go back to Gehenna where the Christmas festivities are happening with a full swing. Paimon and Leraye were greeting MC (they're so cute) while the Kings were kinda neutral and just glad MC was okay even though they know what went down in Paradise Lost with Lucifer. MC even got gifts from everyone which uh were some condoms...Zagan preparing the thinnest one for them (thank you kind sir I love you, are they also those latex free ones that still make it feel like you're not wearing one?)

A couple days later there's another meeting again being held by the Kings, and what's mentioned is that Belphegor was actually awake for this one and questioning what even happened about the Christmas flu/cold results.

Mammon brings up that all they had to do was just ask MC their desires and help bring them out and Satan ofc is pissed off that he didn't just do that in the first place. Leviathan is pissed thinking that the old woman lied to everyone but Asmo confirms that it wasn't her fault, she's just so old she pretty much forgot and assumed that was the cure 💀 (he called her senile lol)

he also went into detail about his good time with her and i'm like he actually turned her out and probably threw her back out but that's okay she'll be fine

Satan questions Lucifer as to why he didn't reveal such information in the first place and being straightforward he simply says "you didn't ask" and well none of them can be mad because they really didn't ask him anything they just assumed and went to do their own thing. Though...something tells me he wouldn't have answered anyway.

Satan and the others even knew about his affliation with Achazriel and they don't seem to care too much about that. So much that they prepared gifts for the angels of the Middle Realm in forms of a peace offering or just acknowledgement of their intentions to not bother them in the future with ill intentions.

Lucifer finds this behavior surprising but also he's amused that they are all acting like this, as predicted.

Now...Belphegor does try to be messy and bring up how many times Luci has withheld information and if he was really on Hell's side or not. Lucifer chooses not to engage with his provoking questions and instead just leaves.

The final moments of Lucifer leaving is him looking at all the decorations, and then quietly wishing MC a Merry Christmas while touching the note they left him in his pocket.

and that's all folks~~!

Screencap Time~

Ya'll, Marbas looks so much like one of those "yeah I guess happy holidays" christmas cards like he looks so damn miserable lmaoooo he doesn't want any of that shit on.

Awh Gamgam...he he's so excited about christmas he had everyone put on those outfits and he wants to do all of those activities with Luci omg...he's so adorable

He asked this three times and no one answered him idky everyone got so mad 😭 lol they're just so mean even though he's a little annoying...

Thanks Luci, I am strange 💀

Time to feast. 🙌😏

LOL i'm sorry to ruin the moment but you're telling me MC's main cause of the Xmas flu was because they didn't want to be forwardly submissive? MC???? The same MC we're talkin' about for this entire game...??? (I have yet to see them being overly dominant without the kings having to tell them what to do (no the angel cards don't count okay his brothers are unruly asf) )

Oh my....

nah lemme see that

when are we gonna stop with the pungent smell stuff like for once can we just have "Lucifer's cum smelled like angel food cake" or something else 😭😭😭😭😭

L E T M E SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Zagan....babes I love you and I will use the thinnest condom you gave me because clearly that's an invitation and I love a man that promotes safe sex 💕

I know bby, it's okay you'll get another chance soon. Also you probably would have went insane from the heat let's be honest.

Asmo we weren't talkin' about granny's ability to take backshots and twerk on the dick but okay, thanks for the hoe story (I was wondering when he'd talk about his time with her glad they brought it up lmaoo)

Belphie...now you know damn well 💀💀💀💀

Rosa has spoken Asmo....they don't want you up there or you're going to get thrown out again...

I love Belphie, he's so goddamn messy LMAOOOO (i mean look at that fucking smirk)

lmaooo babes is upset that Lucifer paid him no mind. LOL what a troublemaker <3

Merry Christmas big daddy Luci....thanks for the meal.

And there we have it folks! The end of the event....so as a final look at it from beginning to end...this was a wild ass ride. It was entertaining to say in the least, and while some parts were like ????? what's going on....I was still looking forward to the next day to see what the fuck was going to happen. I also feel like them tying together Luci's Blow card with the Christmas event was a big brain thing to offer the players. "Here's an event and a card to go with it!!!" Since last year pretty much all the angels were paywalled for their own Christmas events.

Also...it makes me wonder what they're going to do next year...I'm going to lose my mind if it's Raphael coming back for a round two but this time he's begging MC to make him feel good again like he drags them up to Heaven and he's like "Okay so...we're celebrating together Idk how to do that though so you do it for me."

Rara's Christmas Adventure 💀

BUT YES as Christmas is pretty much 4/5 days away (depending on your time zone) Happy Holidays ya'll <3 Thank you once again for sticking through my reacts and all your interactions. It was fun.

-your lovely admin Jaze 🖤💖(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

[cuubism]

Can I pressure you to work on the 'having a job sucks ass' math AU fic?

yeah 😂 i started working on it when i was annoyed with my job. which is always

here's a snippet from earlier in the fic, because i think the later part i'm working on won't make a ton of sense out of context

[ make me work on one of my fics if you want ]

-

Dream shuts his laptop as Hob approaches. Oh, yeah. He was definitely waiting for Hob, specifically. Hob is getting the sense that he’s in trouble. And he’s not stupid. It’s not hard to guess what has Dream upset.

“Look,” he starts, “don’t even—”

“Hob Gadling,” Dream interrupts. Yep, that’s the trouble tone, the one Hob used to get when he did shit like giving himself a concussion playing pick up football on the quad. “It is ten p.m.”

“I own a watch too, Dream,” Hob says tiredly. Does Dream think he wants to be working this late? He’s just trying to stay employed.

Dream’s lips press into a thin line. And Hob knows him well enough, can read him well enough to recognize that what’s underneath the annoyance is concern. But what exactly does Dream expect him to do about it?

Hob sits down—more like collapses—into the armchair diagonal to where Dream is on the couch. God, what he really wants is to just fucking face plant into bed, not deal with this.

Christ. When did he start thinking about talking to Dream as dealing with?

Then again, this is less talking to Dream and more arguing with Dream, and he fucking hates doing that.

He scrubs his hands over his face. “It’s far away, alright?” he argues, though it sounds more like a whine. “It’s not like I can teleport.”

“It is not acceptable that they keep you so late,” Dream says. Then his tone softens. “I worry over your level of exhaustion. That is not even mentioning the commute.”

“Honestly, the commute’s not the worst part,” Hob says. “Gives me more time to get stuff done. Or fall asleep.”

Dream gives him a flat look. “Precisely.”

“I don’t want to hear judgment about work ethic from you of all people,” Hob snaps. God, he hates arguing with Dream, he hates it. It’s not like when they bicker. And it’s not like arguing with anyone else. The thought that Dream is upset with him is genuinely distressing.

“I think I of all people am uniquely qualified to give it,” Dream says.

He’s not wrong. Dream is a workaholic if ever there was one. It’s something Hob’s had to talk to him about in the past. Frequently, in the past, Hob was the one who was better about it.

It’s just that having this job is a level of relentless he couldn’t possibly have anticipated.

Hob can’t just quit though, even if he is overworked. It’s a good job, career-wise, and it pays really well, and he wants Dream to be able to keep his post-doc position without worrying about the salary because Dream is just quite frankly not cut out for anything where he isn’t able to work independently at least ninety percent of the time and Hob doesn’t want to see him suffer, and he wants them to be able to buy a house someday—

“Look,” he says, before Dream can suggest that he actually quit or something, “Dream, we’re making fucking bank, okay?”

Dream raises an eyebrow. “We are?”

“Yeah, we’re married, or did you forget?”

“It’s your money.”

“The joint bank account says otherwise. Half of it is yours.”

Dream frowns, then gets a wicked look in his eye. Oh no. “Does that entitle me to half of your suffering as well? Do I get half a say in whether it continues?”

“That’s not the point—”

“Are you going to watch me suffer half your exhaustion and do nothing about it?” Dream challenges, steamrolling right over him. He’s impossible to argue with when he really gets going. And great, now he’s employing that look. That pleading look that he knows Hob can’t say no to, eyes wide and helpless. “Will you leave me to my agonies?”

“Alright,” Hob says, pressing his hands to his eyes. “Enough. Stop joking around.”

“I’m quite serious. I don’t wish to see you suffer.” He crosses the room, kneels in front of Hob’s chair, and takes Hob’s hands, bringing them down from his face. “Your unintended comparison was more apt than you realize. When you prosper, I prosper. When you suffer, so equally do I.”

“Should have been a fucking poet instead of a mathematician, Dream,” Hob says. It shouldn’t come out as bitter as it does.

Except— “Maths is poetry,” he says, echoing it just as Dream says it, too. Hob had known he would.

It makes him smile, that he can predict Dream like that.

[letternotekisses]

Huhu! Sry same gal again from last req! I just realized with my last request that bw!assistant timeline with the bw cast could be maybe fun to read if you got any hc or drabbles for it :D also Im considering rn to make some doodles based on some of your post/hcs they r just too goooooood<33 i feel inspired

(18+mdni) anon i would go apeshit for doodles that is so SWEET, take my random ass thoughts on this cuz we love assistant reader here on my blog!!

Gabriel is the stern figurehead who keeps everyone in line, and is probably tied with Moira in last place in terms to warming up to the whole sharing idea. He's easily swayed once you settle in though, because you're good at your job and help keep whatever stress he has mounting at bay. (Shoulder massages and plentiful glasses of bourbon whiskey goes a long way.) He often has to step in when the boys are being a tad too rough with you, reminding Genji & Cassidy that bench pressing you as a test of strength in whatever dick measuring contest they have going on won't mean anything when he's around because he's your favourite anyway.

Behind closed doors is a little different. Gabriel allows you an insight to his tender side, not only his stress but his wants and desires. Many a night have you been spread over thick thighs, quivering legs braced either side of him as he works, a smug smile spread over his lips as you twitch around him and beg for any semblance of relief as he steadies you with a large hand on your hip. He won't relent until you're blubbering and flexing your cute little nails into his skin, barely able to make a dent in him as his fat cock nudges against the deepest parts of you. Only then will Gabriel coo mockingly at you, putting his datapad down to fuck you silly over his desk.

You're kept safe and and warm and hidden. Tucked away like one of Blackwatch's many secrets. Gabe protects what belongs to him, and as far as he's concerned? You're one of his, and he's happy to do what it takes to keep it that way. (Plus, his boys like you. And it keeps them busy enough to stop annoying him.)

Cassidy laid the charm on thick as soon as you stepped through the damn door. A pretty secretary, just for them? Oh, he was smitten from the get go. He spends most of his free time draped over your desk as you type away, shooting him an amused look every now and then when you catch him giving you goo-goo eyes. You ask him why he would bore himself like this, and he always replies in the same old way that has your heart fluttering every time. Ain't nothing boring around you, darlin. Reyes often drags him off by the scruff, his hat drooping clumsily on his head as he blows a kiss to you on the way out.

Usually the one to help keep a sense of normalcy for you within Blackwatch, often taking you out to bars and bistros he's familiar with despite Reyes' warnings. Cassidy will happily take any scolding for you, anything to see the pretty secretary smile.

And I'm afraid to say it, but he's an absolute horndog who can't get enough of the attention you give him. Even just curling your fingers under his hairy chin to pull him in for a cheeky kiss has Cassidy harder than stone, the hot mass prodding into your thigh persistently until you do something about it. And if he's not humping into your pretty pussy at the speed of light or eating you out with utmost enjoyment, then he's plopping his hat onto your head while you ride him within an inch of his life. Giddyup, Cowgirl.

Genji was almost elusive when first meeting you, but his hesitation's quickly sobered when you didn't treat him like a monster because of his synthetic appearance. He started to avoid you less and less until he began inviting you along to meditate, or vying for your attention in silly, stupid bets with Cassidy. He's a little old fashioned in his approach, too, leaving behind meaningful gifts at your desk to show that he listens and cares. And whilst he's outwardly the sweetest, you know the mischief that lies behind Genji's cool exterior.

(You take him up on his offer to train you, just a few basic moves so that you can defend yourself. And as good as you get, he'll always be better, putting your ass on the mat for the millionth time and making you pout playfully when he chalks it up to his ninja skills, a humble offering to soothe your bruised ego.)

And he definitely puts his ninja skills to good use by sneaking up on you, making you jump as he surrounds you from behind, your soft body settling perfectly against his own. He takes advantage of the positioning to part your soft thighs from behind, the skin so plush and unmarred unlike his own, Genji can't help but want to bury himself within it. It's often how you end up being fingered until you can barely speak, or being eaten out from under your desk while you try not to break your cool. And when he's not making your life hell by trying to get you caught, he's whisking you away to somewhere a little more private so he can fuck your thighs and bury his face into your neck to inhale that warm scent of yours.

Moira is on strict orders not to scare you off, but the warning only entices her closer. She's slow to approach, like you're a rabbit that might break into a sprint once you catch a hint of her wolfish scent on the wind. But you don't. You're a hardy, spirited little thing and she certainly wants a piece of you now, listening to you talk with her hands clasped behind her back and her head inclined towards you, her eyes bright and predatory and intrigued. It has you flustered and often seeking her approval, something she likes.

As odd as any other Blackwatch agent may find her, you often find yourself drawn back to Moira's presence. You talk about any and all things to her and most times her response is something so decadently intelligent that it flusters you to no end, and she's all too pleased to indulge in whatever information about yourself that you share to her.

She also enjoys using her knowledge to her advantage, helping you discover new things about your body that you may not have even known yourself, pushing you to absolute limits with experiments purely for her own enjoyment. Experiments such as the amount of times you can cum in one session with her, good thing she knows the exact right spot to reach with her fingers, hm?

[anxietycheesecake]

There's something so "performative" about the finale, not sure how to articulate it. I mean, it's been like that for a while, but there were still sincere moments every now and then (probably from the cast putting all their actussy into it). It wanted to make a statement so bad, regardless of whether you think they were mocking us or not. "I'm not a normal sitcom, I'm a cool sitcom, like Seinfield. I don't fit in and I don't want to fit in. Have you ever seen my characters evolve? Oh... Oh... No, you haven't! I artificially took that back every single time! That's cool."

They wanted to remove the sense of a plot and a purpose that season 3 and partially season 4 gave it so hard it's like they couldn't think of anything else. It's funny because it's pointless and unsatisfying, even though we have managed to balance raunchy comedy and emotional scenes just fine before. It's easier this way and it get us Reddit praise. But here's the thing, it wasn't even that funny. Season 1 was just sitcom shenanigans and dark comedy and it was hilarious. Like, when was the last time you physically bent over in laughter while watching this show and are you sure it wasn't because the actors were making a funny voice or a funny face that absolutely wasn't scripted?

But I mean, all that aside, I think it's just cringe. It's giving "how you doing, fellow kids?" It's overdone and so eager to be disruptive it ends up being anticlimatic. "That's the point! We were trying to be anticlimatic!" Ok, bro, you're either a shit writer because you couldn't come up with an actual conclusion or because you genuinely thought that'd make good tv.

Comparing wwdits to Seinfield is like when wannabe great American novelist says he's writing the next Great Gatsby. No you're not. And I don't mean this as "wwdits isn't worth shit compared to actual high art sitcoms such as Seinfield" (I actually liked it better when it wasn't trying to become Seinfield); it's just... There's already a Seinfield. And there was already a wwdits that had found its footing and its voice and was doing a near perfect balancing act between comedy and drama, while keeping it humor-focused at all times. Your story is yours but when my book was starting to sound a lot like The Girls by Emma Cline minus the ABSOLUTE LITERATURE of it (arguably the best thing about The Girls), my mom was like "this not you, girl, what are you doing?" And that was MY MOM, not some random people on the Internet who are a small portion of the people who put food on my table (hopefully, heh -pay writers better, bitches >:(-). Like, dude, you're in your 40s, how can you be this petty?

At the end of the day, it was just petty. It read like fanfiction a troll would write. And they can try to gaslight us into buying it was actually such a smart move and amazing writing, but we know the truth. "We've thought about six possible endings for Guillermo's arc and haven't decided on one", "We kind of just come up with things that might be funny and work them into an episode"; things being said about a show one its fourth and fifth season. Absolutely valid, of course, but you can just admit you bit more than you could chew and wanted an easy way out. We get it, it's your job, do whatever you need to get that (far too small) paycheck, but don't put a "subversive" label on it and call it a perfect ending.

And if you're so willing to disrespect your fanbase or convince them they were watching a completely different show mere three years ago, for fuck's sake, commit to the bit and at least make it entertaining. Characters just spelling out things that are going to annoy the fans or prove to them it was silly to care about the shit and fart show for half and hour? THREE TIMES? Dude, you can be more subtle, media litecary's been dead for a while now. It's not unfunny in the sense that it's offensive; rather it was offensive how deeply unfunny it was. How can you manage to be this dishonest while doing everything in your power to make yourself seem even more dishonest??? smh

[thedevilinmybrain]

Omg I'm so excited!

Okay super specific one: the whole crew goes out, Harry gets really drunk (maybe his first time drinking?) and gets all sad and moody and Louis comforts him through it

(please excuse me for making louis again jump over a bathroom stall in one of my fics)

"You don't even like me." Harry wails, his boot connecting solidly with the wooden bathroom stall door. "You'd rather be out there with him."

"Him? Who him?" Louis is leaning one arm on the door frame, the other hand rubbing at his face. Harry's been locked in there for a good fifteen minutes, refusing to even come out and talk about this like a normal human being. Then again, no one is really normal after fifteen shots of vodka.

"Francois." Harry sniffles loudly.

"Who the fuck is Francois?" Louis tries to think back. Is he even friends with anyone named Francois? Even remotely? There was that guy Frankie he met like two weeks ago but he was some club promoter and Louis isn't even sure what country that was in.

"Francois! The waiter!" Another kick hits against the stall door and Louis reels back. "Or bottle boy. Bottle babe. Is that politically correct? I don't know. That doesn't feel very inclusive."

"Baby, what are you on about?" Louis waves a hand at Niall when he pokes his head in the door. This is definitely one for Louis.

"You let him feed you a shot," Harry mumbles and Louis has had just about enough of this. Digging his toes into the thick hinge of the door, Louis easily launches himself over it, landing way too close to the toilet for his own liking but also close enough to bump into Harry, wrapping an arm around his waist to keep him from hitting the wall.

"What?" Louis asks, not harsh, though Harry flinches like he did.

"You let him feed you a shot." Harry repeats. The tip of his nose is pink, cheeks even pinker, but his eyes are glassy and bright. He's a bottom of the bottle beauty.

"Oh, well, it's his job." Louis shrugs a shoulder a little. "Besides, you took like four shots from that one guy."

"That one guys name is Russel. And he's married. And has a six month old daughter named Rosie." Harry huffs indignantly. "She just started solids."

"Of course he showed you the whole family album. Only you would get bottle service only to make mates with the servers." Louis rolls his eyes affectionately, giving a shake of his head.

"Don't make fun of me!" Harry huffs, tries to push at Louis but it's weak and Louis has a good grip on his hips.

"I'm not, baby. I'm not. You're cute. And you're drunk. And why would I care about some bottle guy when I've got you?" Louis asks, kissing each of Harry's cheeks, his nose, his mouth.

"Is that what you call them? Bottle guys? That doesn't sound correct." Harry huffs, but he lets Louis pet over him, even gives him a sweet kiss in reply. "Is it bottle service person? A bottle professional?"

"I don't know, pet." Louis sighs, shaking his head. "Do you want to go out and ask them?"

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

Hi! So I’m not sure if you remember me, because the last time we spoke was circa 2013 - I was about 15 and a hot mess of an anxious teenager with a shitty mom. And I followed you for a long time because of supernatural but I also really respected you, that you took the time to talk to me and answer me genuinely even though I was a stranger. You and your blog talked me off a ledge more than once. I’ve been through a lot since then (multiple diagnoses, school abroad, a degree in a field that I love and a job where I get to be outside for a living). I’m going through some health issues now, lost my dream job and I have to move home - I found myself thinking of how I used to cope when I was home as a kid and I thought of your blog. It’s good to see that you’re still here! A lot of the blogs I used to follow are long gone, unsurprisingly. But I just wanted to say thank you and that I’m doing much better. Because if you hadn’t taken the time to listen to a scared 15 year old, I might not have gotten to be a 26 year old who’s been to 9 countries, reconnected with my high school friends and is going to be a bridesmaid in 2 weddings in a few months. You helped me stay here long enough to know that it might not be not okay right now, but that it will be. Thank you. I hope you’re taking care of yourself!

GOD THIS HAS ME SO

i'm so so so proud of you, sweetheart. it means so fucking much to me to know that i helped you get through, but don't forget that you're the one who actually did the work and kept going in spite of it all.

it sucks that you're having these setbacks now, but you're still so young and have so much more ahead of you, i promise. i hope it gets better and better.

thanks so much for coming back to say hi and let me know how you're doing. it really lifts my spirits to know that i've been able to help. take care of yourself as well, darling. <3

[mrmeepsmadmind]

Please i would love to hear all of the headcannons on Soundblaster i beg we need more of this silly guy

PUTTING U IN MY POCKET AND CHERISHING U FOREVER FOR ASKING ME THIS. i LOOOVEEE YAPPPP!!!!!!!

MY SOUNDBLASTER HEADCANONS / GEN THOUGHTS AND STUFF !!!!!! Warning for dark, mature topics like g*re mention / h*micide ‼️‼️. Not rlly explored but mentioned. No s*xual stuff tho. Still tho, disclaimer, he's an awful cold mech ... who tortures u and twerks to stuck in the middle with you while doing it

best way i can describe how i view Soundblaster is an orca born & raised at SeaWorId who ended up accidentally kiIIing a trainer while playing as a baby and was then separated from his mother, pod, home, everything he once knew.. & luckily released as untrainable into the wild,

but he wishes he was kiIIed instead

he yearns for family, deep down, but can't. have one .

he views his old family as weak & miserable, stuck behind glass to perform for others until they die, & he hates them for not at least trying to fight for him when they took him away. The fact that they couldn't do anything but didn't at least Try just to Attempt . . makes it even worse.

at least he is free to swim the entire ocean as his exercise. But his past follows him everywhere. he is excluded from pods for his nature being even too unorthodox for them, his fin forever drooped. other animals naturally fear him. & he misses his mom ( soundwave ), even though he hates her. He hates her because he misses her .

In my headcanon, SB was made to be a bot with No sentimental attachments, specifically to cassettes, created by Shockwave at the order of megatron. He was made with the purpose of being a bot who could send soldiers off to die without a blink. He was made to be ruthless for the decepticon cause, no one else.

Soundwave Hates SB. The mere idea of SB implies there to be a flaw within Soundwave that caused Shockwave, a mech whose intelligence is renowned, to decide such a severe action as cloning was necessary to fix that. Out of the big three decepticons, soundwave is the bot who deals with empathy the most, although that bar is VERYYYY low considering his comparisons are shockwave and starscream (who is a much better contender than shock in the empathy battle, but star is more involved with his self than outward empathy for others at this point in the war ). Soundwave deals with mentality and communication. Despite his monotone, he does feel. He tunes it out for the cause but thats because he values the cause over the value of others' thoughts, he has to, that's his Job. But tuning out his cassettes' thoughts .... it's. That's when it gets difficult. Soundwave values shockwave for his contributions for the cause with his intellectual gifts and curses. Shockwave making Soundblaster is like if your husband made The Perfect Robot Wife right in front of you and expected you to be perfectly fine with it because thats how you've HAD to be your whole life. If it's better for the cause, than it's better for everyone and everything, ultimately. So just do what you're Assigned to do, soundwave, and simply tune it Out.

SB didn't hate soundwave at the beginning.

i think the whole FAILED clone experiment should be more explored in SB. not just as a 'lol look at sb! Soundwave would NEVER do that! That's so funny!!' like that's cute of course but.. we can also go even further to 'oh my Primus. Soundwave would Never go as FAR to do this . 'and soundblaster just grins with his visor and says ' that's why i'm the Upgrade . ' he's the opposite in some extensions, but similar in some, and that's what makes others so wary, and it's not just from similar appearances, bcs i think that's something soundblaster can try to do something about and has

I think of Soundblaster as WaveWave's fucked up child who fucking hates them, can't stop being compared to them, and can't stop missing them no matter how hard he tries. He's discarded and pretends like he doesn't care, but he's so. Empty. No matter how things he forces into his new cassettes, hobbies he switches to, careers, accents, teams, bodies and parts he keeps in his tapedeck, he's just. Empty in the end.

He's programmed to be ultimately unfeeling. Everything he builds is necessary for his own entertainment, and everything he burns down is necessary for his apathetic functioning, while still desperately trying to wring out at least SOME joy out of it, but always ultimately being unable thanks to shockwave.

SB is intelligent, not to shockwave's capabilities, but he tries. He has shockwave's ability to push and abuse boundaries for the sake of expanding his interest in knowledge, and he has soundwave's observations. He collects information and then He capitalizes on it. HE capitalizes. HE is the cause here, though, not decepticons or autobots, shanix, not even to rule something because it might Seem fun at first .. but then that nagging restlessness tugs him again and he needs to make another cruel move simply for the sake of Moving, of thinking he Can feel. If others, populations, companies, markets, etc, just so happen to be lucky enough to momentarily benefit off that or unlucky enough to be tortured from it, then so be it. He doesn't care. And he's not even saying that to seem stronger to everyone because he Doesn't care (look out for, wonder, worry, valuing feelings, etc. He doesn't view anyone as anything but slight distractions to keep his processor jumping instead of just running) for Anyone, No matter how hard he tries, he always ends up abandoning everyone in the end because abandonment is all he knows. Shockwave and soundwave differ only bcs they tie with his creation. Shockwave is akin to Primus to him, only because SB doesn't care for Primus, but he Does find himself pondering Shockwave, HIS creator because Shockwave made HIM, ties to HIM, tethered to HIM. soundwave is similar. SB hates that, he hates being tethered to anything or anybot. It's just not his programming. He needs distractions so he doesn't have to think about his programming being permanent for at least a few seconds, but it always reminds him it's Never leaving in the end, and part of him doesn't want it to because if he doesn't feel nothing then he'll feel Scared, and he can't tell which is worse

Personal attributes

His voice is booming, dominating, and emphatic because he's learned how to mimic the right inflections, personality, pathology, etc to act alive just so he can remind you he's not in the end because it'll make the pain hit harder for you, & that's Much more Fun in his eyes. He can mimic accents fluently, and sometimes just changes them rapid fire for some shake up. He'll go from a cowboy to Italian in a split for no rhyme or reason, he simply Wanted to. When he Speaks, you Listen.

He views jobs as the same throwaway thing, as he views everything. He goes from a mercenary with a band of bots who admire him for his confident callousness until he burns it all to the ground to explore a new avenue, while success sometimes happens to follow bcs people can't help but worship how indifferently strong he is. Mercenary, pirate, black market, thief, torturer, executioner, decepticon brief ally, autobot brief ally, energon disperser, he wants to do it all because he needs to because it's Different and he Needs differences, not to be quirky for others, but to fool himself into thinking that just for one moment.. he could change

But he never does ! He's stuck in a programmed cycle of apathy and he's dragging others down with him to distract him from the constant spiral

Like how skybound soundwave loves sealife and whales, SB loves dolphins. He loved orcas for their color scheme, but then he researched and further fell in love, trying to model himself into something separate from soundwave without even knowing he's still stuck being eerily similar but still eerily different, not enough to be lovingly regaled the same, nor stand out as a bot truly Different and his own.

Orcas and soundblaster are very similar in many ways. Orcas can even mimic humans.

Soundblaster has STRONG mental abilities. Hypnosis is his favorite. Unlike soundwave, he doesn't care who he hurts with it, he revels in it. Until he's bored. Soundblaster loves to lure unsuspecting bots of all factions by using others' voices and their thoughts to fool everyone, like a siren, but unlike a siren, he's not trying to feed on drunken sailors for survival, he just felt like playing that day . He loves displaying graphic images on his visor or any screen, whether that be a victim's loved one dying from footage he's saved of him torturing them, or just showing them some of his favorite g*re footage because he felt like sharing that day, he just thinks it'll be a neat trick for him to do. His screens often display disturbing, uncomfortable images, with horrifying sounds to match as well

However, SB has weaker sound abilities than soundwave, either from improper training, care, or maybe even an inability to fully replicate what the original can do. His speakers are distorted and sometimes slowed or skipping. Dancing queen slowed reverb YouTube song lol. Happy music is usually not as affected by his radio quality, aside from the occasional audial splitting sparks, so he likes listening to that while torturing.

Back to the sound, his soundwave are weaker. At close distances they're stronger, but far away they echo out and surround instead of always focusing. To help him out, he has an orca-like tail that can extend from his spinal strut to help direct the waves better. But hypnosis is just so much more fun.

SB loves earth, he thinks there's just so many opportunities to have some joy before getting bored! Mimicking a mother calling for her child to lure it away for dissection. Mimicking a baby crying for its mother. Mimicking a puppy and displaying footage of a poor puppy trapped in his car with the windows up and the heat outside is excruciating so a good Samaritan can try breaking the window only to be pulled right in. So much fun!!! Sometimes, he'll even steal a singer's skin and pretend to be them so his hypnosis can easily reach bigger crowds with less effort on his part. Think the movie smile with how he invades them and their effects.

I like to think his human skin disguise's fc looks like st chroma. Just for fun.

Soundwave being able to turn others into his new cassettes is something soundblaster loves to do, and most of the time he forgets he even did it. He loves melding machine and man. He has a dog mech instead of a cat mech, with a human face melted on it. A mix of human teeth and fangs. It used to be a - eh, he doesn't remember. Maybe it was a little girl, at one point. He thinks he got the inspiration from an anime he watched. He likes anime.

His tapedeck is fucking abhorrent. He keeps his skinsuits in there. His cassettes strain and shake, but he always hypnotizes them obedient .

He has a mouth, but the mask doesn't cover directly on it. The mouth is where his chin would be, and from a direct angle, can't be seen until he tilts his helm high up and can even snap it back so the face is dangling on the other side. The mouth has various teeth of various kinds (human, monster, mech, alien, etc) inside, and eyes are everywhere, blinking gums, bloodshot cavern, even on the teeth themselves, since his helm is snapped so far behind him. They don't blink, which is why the tongue is so long, helping to coat them with moisture

Unknown if he has an actual face behind his mask or not.

I think he should have a mini friendship / pls don't kill me sb with bee like he did in the Netflix tf bcs bee is someone whose thoughts DO NOT and cannot match his actual actions bcs theyre selfish and kinda rude and bee cannot allow himself to be Imperfect or the autobot cause and optimus's reputation would be ruined. HES supposed to be their shining light, their hope. If their hope is awful, then what does that say about the cause. I think soundwave and bee are very interesting together in general, but that's another talk another day. But yeah, i think bee feels terrible for sb but also is terrified of him, but bee can't just abandon him . Not like everyone else. Bee CANT be like everyone else, he HAS to better. ...don't tell anyone he thinks that tho- he just wants it implied a little- he just has to be perfect not bcs hes secretly selfish and mean but um! U guys just kinda suck! OOPS, UM. HE MEANS. he'll just distract them by being cute or smthing... & meanwhile soundblaster is watching like 'you're mentally ill. ...I Like That. '

This is how soundblaster talks and views bee, LOL. He just keeps him alive bcs hes entertained by his trauma that bee pretends he doesn't have, which makes it all the more entertaining. I just think the dynamic would be rlly funny, not even in a shipping sense, but a I just think they would be funny sense.

Bee: i mean .. i can't help but feel bad for shockwave.. he used to be a senator.. a Good senator.. he was so kind.. empurata- it's really awful.. he looks so different now.. it must have been so painfu-

SB: WOMP WOMP :P !

Bee:

Bumblebee: ...did you just say Womp Womp to Empurata-

LIKE. i think soundblaster is so fucked up and can be even more fucked up if they just explored him more to really distinguish him but also keep that soundwave association haunting him bcs that mech is Never getting rid of it. I think even if he gets damaged and tries getting repairs, his spark turns down any parts that Don't resemble soundwave's, hence why he has skinsuits to slither into to make himself feel like he can finally relieve himself of soundwave's shadow. Hypnosis doesnt work on him, not even his own. All the mirrors are immediately broken wherever he goes. He's an ill cretin who is also very funny to me. He loves to dance and sing while torturing and is very good at it! But he's also. Awful.

He can't feel, but he can feel some sort of peculiar tie to his cassettes, mainly so he can know their location Wherever they go. He likes to purposefully dispatch his army into losing battles with terrible odds so he can feel their cries shudder from within his spark and that low hidden mouth Grins. And if they end up somehow surviving and winning, then he guesses that's good too, or whatever :/

Bumblebee would be the perfect we have to do good straight man to soundblaster with how compassionate he is.. and soundblaster would be perfect in demonstrating bee's desperation to be liked when bee mistakes soundblaster's tolerance of bee being a good distraction for fondness.. like. Tf could do so much more with sb than just a clone.. bee would be a good big character to help get others familiar with SB !!! LIKE! UGH! THERES JUST SO MUCH POTENTIAL WITH SOUNDBLASTER!!!!! but also transformers is trying to appeal to a younger audience to get new tf fans and keep it alive so i don't think we'll get the soundblaster depth i dream of... if we get more of him at all.. but still.. a m&m can Dream ..

if the name Mr. Blonde from reservoir dogs rings any bells, that's who i associate with Soundblaster as well as orcas to help understand his personality better, to conclude my yap !!!

ANYWAYS!!!! THANK YOU FOR LISTENING!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE THIS WEIRD THING SM!!! SILLY GUY!!!! MY EMO WIFE!!!! WE NEED SO MUCH MORE OF THIS SILLY GUYYY URGHHHHHHH!!!!!!! URE SO RIGHT! PLS ANON I LOVE U FOR ASKING ME THIS! SRRY THIS IS SO LONG! I THINK IMIGHTVE FORGOTTEN SOME THINGS BUT YEA HERES MY YAP FOR NOW !!!

[dcviated]

"There's always something funny about seeing these wonders in person, though. When you like... realize you can place them in the middle of ordinary life." Wylan observes, making an angle with his thumb and pointer. The half a box frames the ubiquitous tower, then drops it lower- as if placing it even deeper into the city. "Looking at it on magazines or photos, you think these places are kept in their own unique world. Then it's like. Nope. There's a McDonalds right there. Or some other joint. Same thing when I was in Egypt and first saw the pyramids."

Wylan huddles close to Sonia, as if for the first time embracing his special status and the magnamity of it along with Sonia, giddy grin on his features.

"Aren't we basically the same thing, you and I, if you think about it?" Eyes flash about them, not that there was any chance of them being discovered far as he could tell. Not that it mattered if they were. As much as he knew he could circumvent the security detail, he also trusted them to do their job. "Look at us- international assassin and crown princess. Sipping some fucking counter drinks on top of a mall." Then Wylan smiles. "Aren't you the real wonder?"

If his confidence and ego bubbled up any more, it'd be apt to spill over his hands. And that would be somehow even more disastrous if the hot beverage had done the same. Fortunately, they weren't actually running about and being reckless in action. Just in word. Just in promise. Just in heart.

"Y'know, an urban trek did cross my mind. But this is a date, isn't it?" Wylan raises the question, lolling his head to the side and fixing her with a discerning expression. "And what kind of guy takes a girl on a date and runs off to do something by himself? I know I'm bad with romance and the whole ordeal. But I like to think I know at least that much." The huff comes across as so self-assured you'd think he believes he deserves brownie points for making the observation. Like the winning answer to a quiz show.

Then his brow flickers, lifts after taking a sip of the coffee.

"Unless- oh, don't tell me you've gotten into free climbing since we've split up?? Huu~ maybe if we climbed it together that'd make for a heck of a date~" He smiles around his tongue, observing this, a happy bob of his shoulders at the unfortunately unlikely outcome of their lunch hour.

Besides. If he was going to live this life, one that kept him around these big cities most of the time, if not multiple times- there would be ample opportunity to slip away and indulge those more dubious curiosities of his.

She led with purpose: she always did, whether it was as a princess or, like today, as a woman in love. With someone who would have the uphill journey of a lifetime, she suspected, to be welcomed into her family and her life, but it was a journey she wanted to embark upon nevertheless. Still, with all of the confidence she exuded, her squared shoulders and head held high, Sonia's breath still caught in her throat when she felt his arms wrap around her on the ascending escalators.

She should've been careful. She should've been, at the very least, concerned about being recognized in one of the busiest cities in the world, days before she was supposed to appear at a high society event honoring her and other assorted young, rich, and beautiful single socialites: the world's most eligible bachelors and bachelorettes, all in the same place for one evening (and preserved for eternity in the pages of that month's magazine issue, of course).

But Sonia wasn't. Not the way he held her, the way he stole kisses in broad daylight and in the general public, and not even the possibility of consuming so much sugar and fat that indigestion was inevitable. Only once they'd stepped off the topmost escalator did her arms fall away from where they'd been resting over his, if just to walk without accidentally tripping over her own feet. "Mm, I think it is important to remember that we only live once, and that stomach pain could be worth it in order to sample everything delicious," She grinned at him over her shoulder as she pointed out the various caffeinated options to choose from. "And besides: is this not what antacids are made for?" Medicine to dull the pain, but memories that would remain forever. Even if they were stories that didn't enthrall anyone except for the two of them: that was what mattered. She left her grin where it was at the mention of a leash: she wouldn't verbally confirm nor deny. He'd have to find out for himself, but a wink would, perhaps, give her away just a little bit.

What did cause her smile to fade, however, was the mention of the drink powder Wylan believed to be chocolate. "That is not chocolate by any definition of the word," She replied bluntly. Likely the reaction he wanted but she didn't care: she was determined to introduce him to what chocolate was supposed to taste like, not the gritty, waxy, or overly sweetened offerings that America provided. She didn't possess the same apprehension towards the states that many of Novoselic's citizens did, but Sonia did pause at their idea of chocolate, the peanut butter combination aside. America had done something right there, beyond being Wylan's home of course.

Still, drinking chocolate was best enjoyed on a terrace with a silver bowl of whipping cream to add to one's liking. So she opted for a fragrant tea, spiced with apples, cinnamon, and cloves, before taking him by her free hand and leading him towards the set of stairs off to the side of the topmost floor. "We do indeed have all day," She nodded, her cheerful expression returning. That thought was far more pleasant than gritty sugar water. "And I wanted to start it here, just a bit more to go."

At the top of two rows of stairs was, at last, the roof of the Galeries Lafayette. The view was sweeping, and on that clear morning it was easy to see not only the Palais Garnier a street away, but the top of the Arc de Triomphe, Notre Dame, and the Eiffel Tower off in the distance. That early in the morning was before the crowds of tourists descended upon the viewing platform for selfies with varying sizes of selfie sticks, or posing for the most optimal video for their social media feeds. It was a simple task to find a free bench to enjoy their drinks and the view the platform provided.

"So many people go to the top of the Eiffel Tower or the Arc de Triomphe and pay for the privilege, only to realize those landmarks they wish to see are, of course, absent from the skyline," She explained, pausing for a sip of her sweet and spicy tea. "But in truth, the best view of Paris is here, and it's free."

Not that he seemed to be focused on the sights, unless the sight was her. Sonia's cheeks flushed at that realization: she was so used to being looked at, admired, coveted, by people she knew and many she didn't. But the fact that it was him made her heart beat faster, her face warming up in the chilly autumn air for reasons that had nothing to do with her tea. "Well, we came here for clothes for you first and foremost!" She reminded him, gently nudging him playfully in the ribs. "I doubt you brought much in the way of outfits. My staff can launder clothes rather quickly but probably not fast enough, considering your luggage." Which had been, if her eyes hadn't deceived her as he'd opened up his bags, a good amount of weapons. A cause for concern for anyone besides her.

Including her security, who trailed behind them as inconspicuous as possible, only keeping an eye on them both with discreet glances. Well, might as well give them something to fret over: Sonia took the opportunity to lean against his side, her hands wrapped around her paper cup. "Still, I do not really mind what we do today, as long as I am with you." And her cousins kept their mouths shut, though she suspected they would. Informing her parents of Wylan's return, and existence in general, was something best left to another day. One where she had her own home to flee to, where she could take him with her and be treated with respect rather than apprehension at best. "If you didn't need something new to wear, I rather thought you would've tried to discern the best way to sneak in and scale the Galeries Lafayette: you aren't much afraid of heights, are you?" Considering how often he broke into her condo back in Tokyo, he'd either been very determined or very much in disregard of his own life. Or both, particularly if he was entering through the windows and not the service stairs or elevator.

That said, she wasn't sure what he was afraid of: barring her, at least, up until the previous night. Sonia's head rested against his shoulder, trading a sideways view of the Seine for his warmth and the scent of the soap he'd used earlier that morning. Both comforting, she realized.

[barulf]

gonna gaslight my boss a little bit for the hell he put me through today

[gingermintpepper]

Obsessed with the way Evadne's relationship with Apollo is described. Obsessed with the way Apollo was especially gentle with her because she was sheltered, hidden away and hadn't had any sort of experience with love prior to Apollo (and due to it being described as her 'first learning Aphrodite's joy' through Apollo', it was probably her first time even being attracted to someone). Obsessed with the way when she runs away, she stops in a violet patch to give birth. Y'know, violets, very famously the flower so strongly associated with Aphrodite that they were used in love potions? Those violets. Obsessed with the way that when Apollo realised his lover was going to have to deliver their child alone, he sent BOTH the goddess of childbirth and ALL THREE OF THE FATES to help and support her. Obsessed with the way that Apollo sends snakes to feed his baby honey straight from their fangs because Evadne abandons their son out of straight primal fear when her stepfather finds her and how the description of that honey is 'sweet venom' [ἰός] of the bees and is DEFINITELY a poetic pair/pun with [ἴον] aka violets and that every single thing about this relationship, conception and birth is a complete and utter fairytale down to Evadne's insanely overprotective stepfather having an immediate change of heart when he learned Evadne's child was an actual, legitimate Son of Apollo and the babe, after being cared for by his dad's honey-fanged snake buddies, was found perfectly healthy five days later swaddled in a blanket of violets (y'know the flowers so strongly associated with Aphrodite that they were used for lo-) and they called him Iamus aka Boy of the Violets which is AAAAAARRRR I AM GNAWING AT MY ENCLOSURE

Iamus was made of love. Everything about him was surrounded by deep and profound love and like, let's not even talk about his whole Thing of when he came of age and was like "I need to find out what my purpose is" and he literally had a Disney Protagonist moment where he ran out into the wilds and was like "Father!! Grandfather!! Tell me what I'm supposed to doooo!!" and then APOLLO FUCKING ANSWERED AND LED HIM TO ONE HIS TEMPLES ENTIRELY BY TALKING WITH IAMUS AND LETTING HIM FOLLOW HIS VOICE FOR THE WHOLE JOURNEY LIKE -

What do y'all know about the kind of SSS tier romantic escapades Apollo had fr?

[oozeandgoo-art]

had an odd dream that i was reading a comic book. sketched a couple of the pages i could remember.

[mokeonn]

One of my favorite things about being in my early 20s is that I'm starting to understand that I can use things not for their intended purpose. When you're growing up, you get told what an object is and what its intended purpose is, and as a kid/teen, I just accepted all of it at face value. As a young adult it's finally clicking that I can simply do things a different way if it makes me happier. Sure, I was taught that you stand to take a shower, but there's nothing stopping me from just sitting if I don't feel like it, ya know? I might have always had my medication in the kitchen, but if I'm no longer remembering to take it, I can just move it somewhere where I can remember. You don't have to specifically store all food in the kitchen, you can have a little snack cart or snack station in another room.

The downside to finding out the various ways you can use objects is that you develop habits that would probably go on an r/relationships post where everyone says you're a little freak.

[eleilinnrallin]

Realized why I'm feeling more active, energetic, and capable of doing things on this study abroad!

I've been living the past three years in Colorado and Utah. Well above sea level. I'm in the UK rn. Basically at sea level.

I feel fine because I can actually fucking BREATHE xD